


You Just Missed Him

by katesofheaven



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Finn is a wonderful person, Gay Finn (Star Wars), Gay Poe Dameron, Hate Crimes, Hurt/Comfort, It's A Little Heavy, Jewish Ben Solo, Jewish Poe Dameron, M/M, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Slow Burn, TW alcoholism, anti-Semitism, anti-semitic slurs, but it'll have nice parts too i promise, gay slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28509321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katesofheaven/pseuds/katesofheaven
Summary: When his bus pulled up, he greeted the driver and dropped the correct change into the dish, spotting a seat alone toward the back, next to the steps. He sat next to the window and looked out absently, wiping a small peephole in the condensation on the glass. His hand drifted to the kippah on his head, making sure it was secure. He tried to enjoy the music; tried not to think about table 23.Then, just as the door was sliding shut, there they were.All three of them hopped on, dropped in their change, and smiled at Poe as they took their seats toward the front of the bus.Poe’s stomach flipped. He felt nauseous.Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe they just happened to be on the same bus as him. Maybe they were just going home, like he was.But he’d never seen them on this bus before.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. Table 23

**Author's Note:**

> A new one! A little heavier than my last couple. I hope you folks like it.

The dining room was warmly lit, sconces casting a golden light across the space. Poe stood with a pen and notepad, half-apron tied around his waist.

Three men in nice suits sat around a table, all about his age, all with a bit of comfortable padding in the form of beer guts, which probably kept them warm at their boring office jobs. All with a shrewd look in their eyes as they stared at him.

He skipped his usual spiel and went straight to business. “What can I get you guys started out with?”

One of them was clearly in charge. He flicked a thumb over the edge of the laminated menu repeatedly as he stared at Poe. Poe quickly took in his appearance: white-blonde hair, short on the sides and longer on the top, with cold blue eyes and an upturned nose.

Poe reached up and tucked his necklace in, but he could tell it was too late. They’d already seen it.

“Are there any specials tonight?”

Poe nodded. Looked like he’d have to do the spiel after all. “Drinks are buy one get one half off, and our seasonal vegetables are carrots, asparagus, and spring onions sauteed in a garlic butter sauce. Served as a side. I personally think they complement our roast chicken pretty well.”

“We’ll start off with three gin and tonics,” the leader said, then paused. Smiled and glanced at his friends. “How’s the pork belly?”

“Very popular,” Poe said.

“What do _you_ think of it?”

“It’s slow-roasted with a salted crust and topped with a honey garlic glaze.”

A show of teeth, rather than a smile. “I’ll take it.”

Poe scribbled on his notepad. “Side?”

“I’ll do the roast vegetables.”

Poe nodded and turned to the next guy. “What would you like?”

The second guy had too much gel in his hair. It looked wet and crunchy at the same time, and it was swiped over to one side in a feeble attempt to cover a bald patch.

The way he was looking at him made Poe’s hand drift absently to the pendant tucked under his shirt. He rubbed the star gently.

“How’s the kyke— I mean, uh—” he glanced at his friends and chuckled. Poe’s heart thumped and his hands started to tremble slightly. “How’s the pike?”

Poe was silent for a beat. “It’s good.”

“Just good?”

His voice seemed to stick in his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s good. I like it.”

“Not a big vocabulary on this one,” the second man laughed. His friends grinned.

“What do you want on the side,” Poe asked flatly.

“I’ll have the fries with aioli.”

Poe wrote down the order. He turned to the third man without a word.

“I’m gonna have the bleu cheese burger with fries,” the third guy said.

“Aioli?”

He nodded.

“How do you want it cooked?”

“Medium.”

Poe wrote it down, relieved that this guy had less nerve than his friends.

He walked away silently, keeping his face a blank slate until he’d slammed through the swinging door into the kitchen.

 _“Fuck,”_ he managed, not quietly. “Fuck me.” He held out his hand and stared at it as it shook. “Fuck.”

“Are you okay?”

Poe didn’t look up. It was Ben; he didn’t need to. “I’m fine.” He started to enter in the group’s order.

“What happened?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Ben didn’t move. Poe sighed.

“They called me a—” He shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter,” he repeated, trying to force a smile.

Ben stood up straighter. “Who called you what?”

“The guys at table 23.”

Ben pushed open the door and looked at them for a moment before turning back toward Poe with a knowing expression. “I can take them.”

Poe rolled his eyes. “They’d call you the same thing.”

“I don’t care.”

“Dude, neither do I. It’s fine.” Poe sent the order through. “I was just caught off guard.” He glanced down at his chest and paused, then untucked his necklace, revealing a prominent gold Magen David. He met Ben’s eyes and shrugged. “Fuck it.”

Ben laughed. “I have a kippah in my jacket if you really wanna show ‘em.”

Poe smiled. Then he poured himself a glass of water, downed it, and pushed back out the door.

He approached a different table, where a family of five munched on their meal. “How’s everything tasting, folks?”

The trick was to only check in on tables when their mouths were full; all they could do was nod. Poe smiled and refilled a couple water glasses, then walked away.

After a few minutes, the buzzer on Poe’s hip went off. He went to the bar with a grimace and picked up the gin and tonics for table 23.

He set the drinks on the table silently for the three men.

“I asked for extra limes,” the leader said. Poe looked at him for a moment, briefly considering arguing with him, then went back to the bar. He came back with a ramekin of lime wedges and set it down.

“More water,” the second guy said, pushing forward his almost-full glass. Poe filled it to the brim, then waited a beat for any more requests. When none came, he walked away.

“Poe, we’ll take the check here,” a kind voice said, and relief transformed Poe’s face into a grin.

“How was everything tonight, Frank?”

“Delicious, as always,” the customer, a man in his seventies, smiled. He looked at his wife. “Jill wanted to ask you something.”

“How can I help ya, Jill?”

“Well, I didn’t— it was Frank’s idea.” Jill pursed her lips at her husband. “But we were wondering if—” She leaned toward Poe secretively. Poe knelt down, sparing a dramatic glance this way and that.

“What’s my mission, Jill?”

“Poe, you’re a—” she glanced at her husband again. Poe knit his eyebrows amusedly. “You’re a _homosexual,_ aren’t you?” she whispered.

Poe burst out laughing. A few customers from other tables glanced at him as he tried to quiet down. “Yes, Jill, I am.”

“Well, our grandson is your age, thereabouts,” she said. “And he— well, we just found out he’s also—”

“He came out to us last week,” Frank supplied.

Poe could tell where this was going; his smile drooped slightly. He waited for them to continue.

“Well, yes,” Jill agreed. “He did. And we just think you two would be such a good pair.”

Poe laughed uncomfortably and straightened up. “Um, that’s— I’m flattered that you thought of me.”

“It’s not just because you’re the only gay we know,” Frank assured him. “We really think you two would hit it off.”

Poe’s smile slipped and he glanced behind him, immediately meeting the eyes of the men at table 23. He turned back to Frank and Jill. “That’s very nice of you folks,” he said, much quieter than before. “I’ll grab your check, alright?”

They nodded and Poe hurried to the computer in the kitchen, quickly printing out their bill. When he returned, Jill was writing a phone number on a flowery sticky note she’d fished out of her purse.

He set the check down on the table and Frank slipped his card in without checking the total; Jill handed him the sticky note and Poe slid it into his pants pocket absently, retreating with Frank’s credit card.

He came back to find the old couple gathering their things. Frank scribbled a signature on the check and handed Poe a twenty dollar bill.

“Appreciate it, Frank,” Poe smiled, heart still beating slightly too fast. “I’ll see you folks next month, okay?”

“You’ll give him a call, won’t you, Poe?” Jill asked.

“Who? Oh! Yes, Jill, I’ll give him a call,” he lied. “You folks drive safe, okay? It’s slick out there.”

The couple went out the front door, Frank holding it open for his wife. Poe went into the bathroom to catch his breath, sitting on top of the toilet seat cover. When his heart rate had finally returned to normal, he washed his hands and went back into the dining room.

He checked back in on the family, who ordered a round of desserts. As he entered the order into the computer, one of the chefs called for him.

“Poe, order up.”

He chewed on his lip as he gathered the food onto a tray and made his way back into the dining room, grabbing a stand on his way out of the kitchen.

He quietly distributed the plates of food among the three men at table 23.

“More aioli, Poe,” the blonde guy, the leader, said.

He didn’t like that they knew his name.

He went into the kitchen and came back with more aioli.

“Another round of drinks, too,” the second man added. Poe wrote it down.

“Anything else?”

The two of them looked at the third, more timid man, who lifted the top bun off his burger. “There’s no sauteed mushrooms,” he tried, adopting an angry expression.

Poe knit his eyebrows. “Yeah, the bleu cheese burger doesn’t come with mushrooms.”

“I asked for mushrooms,” the man said.

“No you didn’t,” Poe argued. In his frustration, an exasperated smile appeared on his face. “You didn’t, man.”

There was a stretch of silence. The man glanced at his friends. Cleared his throat. “I asked for mushrooms, kyke.”

The word sent another jolt through him. The unnatural smile disappeared without a trace. He wanted to— he wanted to kill this guy. He really did. He wanted to kill him.

But he didn’t. He didn’t do a thing.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there.

The three men grinned as they watched him.

Then, after a while, he walked away. Back into the kitchen. Put in an order for sauteed mushrooms on the fly.

He stooped down next to the coffee machine, knees popping, and stared at the dingy tile as he waited. Other servers walked past him; a couple of them nearly tripped over him, but he didn’t move. A few asked if he was okay, which he responded to with a curt nod. He tried to relieve some of the pressure in his chest with a few deep breaths. Waited for the order to be ready.

“Order up, Poe.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet again, eyes still trained on the floor. 

He picked up the plate of mushrooms and saw that the desserts for the family at the other table were ready, too. He put them all on a tray and took it back into the dining room.

Without stopping, without looking at the men, he set the mushrooms on the table smoothly. When he got to the family, he put on a smile.

“Here we—” Poe cleared his throat. His voice sounded weak. “Here we go,” he said. That was better.

“Could I get an extra spoon, please?” one of the kids asked.

“Of course,” Poe said. “Anything else, guys?”

They shook their heads. Poe quickly handed them another dessert spoon from the kitchen and the kid handed it to his little sister. They shared a piece of cheesecake.

Poe would usually smile at something like that, but tonight he just stared hollowly at them. Then he blinked and walked back into the kitchen, leaving the family to their food.

“Poe, are you okay?”

It was his manager, Amilyn. He nodded.

“You seem a little tired,” she smiled.

“I’m fine,” Poe said. “I am a little tired, I guess.”

“I’m sending a couple people home, since the rush is over,” she said, searching him. “Do you want to head home?”

Poe nodded and rubbed his nose. “I have two more tables. They’ll be done soon.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Get some rest, okay?”

He nodded again and went back to the family. “Can I grab the check for you folks?”

***

He tugged on his dark green raincoat, patting the inside pocket to check for his wallet. Ben walked past him to the computer.

“You heading out?”

“I’m heading out,” Poe confirmed. “I’m fuckin’ donezo, man.”

“How was 23?”

He shrugged. “No tip.”

“Not surprising.”

He shook his head. “Whatever. They’re gone. Fuck ‘em.”

Ben clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Have a good night, dude.”

“You too,” Poe replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait,” Ben said suddenly.

Poe frowned and waited while Ben rooted around in a jacket on the hanger. He pulled out a weathered blue kippah.

Poe cracked a smile.

“For protection,” Ben grinned.

“You have a pin?”

Ben started to laugh. “You actually wanna wear it?”

Poe shrugged. “Fuck it, dude. Two kykes in one night, I’m on a roll.” Ben reached back into his jacket pocket and produced a black barrette. Poe took the kippah and fastened it to his hair. “Alright, man, I’ll see ya later.”

“Later.”

***

He waited at the bus stop, shoulders hunched from the chill. The rain from earlier in the day had subsided and there was a slight mist in the air. The wires of his headphones swayed lightly in the breeze and he could see his breath in the light from the flickering street lamp.

When his bus pulled up, he greeted the driver and dropped the correct change into the dish, spotting a seat alone toward the back, next to the steps. He sat next to the window and looked out absently, wiping a small peephole in the condensation on the glass. His hand drifted to the kippah on his head, making sure it was secure. He tried to enjoy the music; tried not to think about table 23.

Then, just as the door was sliding shut, there they were.

All three of them hopped on, dropped in their change, and smiled at Poe as they took their seats toward the front of the bus.

Poe’s stomach flipped. He felt nauseous.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe they just happened to be on the same bus as him. Maybe they were just going home, like he was.

But he’d never seen them on this bus before. He was sure he would have noticed them. With their tailored suits, they didn’t exactly seem like public transit types.

They didn’t look back at him at all. They just talked quietly amongst themselves. Poe turned down his music to listen in but the engine of the bus and the conversations of other patrons drowned them out.

He made the decision not to get off at his stop. He would wait for them to get off, go a few more stops, then get a cab home. He could afford one cab ride.

The thing was, they didn’t seem to be getting off. They kept their eyes on the driver’s rear view mirror and watched as other passengers exited and a few more entered. Poe’s music was now turned off, although he still had his headphones in; he didn’t even notice the silence. He just waited for the three men to pull the stop cord. He contemplated sneaking off in a group of passengers, but there were never enough people getting off at one time for table 23 not to notice him leaving.

He was now miles past his house, trying to calculate the cost of a cab home. He was pretty sure he could afford it. He was pretty sure.

The only passengers left were him and them. Table 23. The bus was pulling into the depot.

“End of the line,” the driver called. Poe’s heart started to hammer in his chest. The three men looked back at him and smiled.

Numbly, he stood up.

He was blinking too hard. It was like he could hear each blink.

He slowly walked down the middle aisle and approached the driver. “Um…”

“End of the line,” the driver said again.

“Yeah, I, I know,” he said quietly. He glanced back at the three men. “Could you— I think they’re—”

“Poe, c’mon, buddy,” the blonde guy called. “Quit bothering the poor man.”

Poe blinked hard again. His mouth was downturned into an almost cartoonish frown.

The driver looked at him with a bored expression.

“Um…” Poe gripped his necklace. “Help me,” he mumbled. “Help me.”

The driver looked at the necklace, then back at table 23. Then back at Poe.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?”

Poe nodded rapidly. The driver reached for his cell phone and looked up the number for a local cab company. He glanced back at the men. “You can exit the vehicle, fellas.”

Table 23 paused and sauntered off the bus, stopping on the pavement and staring back inside.

Poe waited silently, head bowed.

Finally, the driver put the phone down. “It should be here in a few minutes.”

Poe nodded. “Thank you.”

The driver looked uncomfortable. “I gotta get the bus back. I can’t let you stay on.”

Poe’s mouth fell slightly open. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Thanks for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Poe managed a smile. “I’m a little worried about it.”

The driver shifted in his seat.

Poe straightened up. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Poe took out his headphones and tucked them into his pocket, then got off the bus. It pulled slowly away, back into the depot.

The men from table 23 smiled at him again.

“There’s a cab coming for me in a few minutes,” Poe said clearly.

The timid one and the hair gel one looked to their leader, who grinned. “You seem a little scared, Poe.”

“I’m not.”

The leader took a step closer.

“Stay back,” Poe said harshly. “Stay away from me.”

They laughed. Poe felt anger coursing through his body with every heartbeat.

“Just leave me— just _fucking leave me alone,”_ he rushed, more desperation in his voice than he intended. “I just want to go home.”

“Back to the Promised Land?” the second man sneered.

“No, man. No,” he sighed. “Just home.”

Poe didn’t have time to react before the leader approached him swiftly and he felt a burst of pain in his cheek. He stumbled backwards a couple of steps.

He didn’t hit him that hard, actually. Compared to other hits Poe had taken, this one was the weakest. He rubbed his cheek slightly and looked up again.

The leader’s perfect hair was mussed from the effort of punching him. He seemed surprised that Poe hadn’t been knocked out cold.

Poe tightened a fist, raised it, and punched back as hard as he could. 

The leader stumbled and fell back onto the pavement.

The other two were roused to action; they both ran up to Poe and started throwing punches. They were only slightly more powerful than their leader, but the two of them together made Poe lose his balance, and that’s when they started kicking.

The kicking was much worse.

Poe curled up and placed his hands on the back of his head; distantly, he registered the kippah still fastened to his hair as sharp bursts of pain exploded over his body. He felt one particularly painful blow to the side of his head and the sound cut out for a second like a skipping record.

At some point, the leader got back up and joined in, straddling him and punching a few times. Poe tried to hit back but the other two caught his hands and held them down. The leader’s nose was bleeding. Poe got a small amount of satisfaction when he noticed that.

The white-blonde leader reached down for Poe’s necklace, turning it over in his fingers almost gently. Then, in one swift, sharp movement, he wrenched it away, snapping the chain. Poe watched quietly as he tossed the necklace to one of his friends, who caught it with one hand as he held Poe down with the other.

“Fucking Jew faggot,” the leader murmured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an antique straight razor. 

“Shit— Tim, what the fuck?” one of the other men managed.

Terror flooded through Poe.

“There’s a cab coming,” he whispered.

The leader smirked and looked around. “I don’t see a fucking cab.”

“There’s a cab coming,” he whispered again. His eyes drifted from the leader’s face to the night sky above.

The leader— Tim— delicately untucked the razor from the sheath. At the soft metallic sound, Poe blinked.

Some bravery suddenly returned and he started to try to kick and wrestle and wrench his arms away from his captors, but it was like a dream. His movements were weak and slow, and Tim stayed on top of him easily. The other two kept hold of his arms like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

The razor was now resting on his neck. Poe stopped moving.

His chest rose and fell rapidly. Like a trapped animal.

“Please,” Poe whispered. “Please don’t.”

“I could do it,” Tim said, stooping lower. His face was inches from Poe’s. “I could. I want you to know that.”

“I just wanna go home,” Poe breathed, a tear escaping the corner of his eye and sliding into his hair. Then another, and another. He couldn’t stop.

At the sight of him crying, they began to laugh; wheezes and oafish guffaws filled his ears. All of the anger seeped from his body, replaced with shame. More than anything now, more than anything, he just wanted to disappear. He wanted to sink into the ground.

One of Tim’s friends ripped the kippah off Poe’s head and tossed it into a puddle a few feet away.

Tim pressed the blade into Poe’s neck, hard enough to draw blood. Poe’s eyes were wide as he stared at the sky.

“Find his phone.”

The feeling of prodding, probing hands as the other two reached into his pockets. One of them found his phone; the other found his wallet.

“Toss the phone. He needs the wallet for the cab.”

Poe blinked. He looked up at Tim’s face, which was empty now. No emotion left in it. The blade still dug into his skin; he felt a small stream of blood snaking around to the back of his neck, into his hair and onto the pavement. He heard a clatter as his phone was thrown into the same puddle as his kippah.

“Let’s go.”

Tim got off of him and the other two stood up. Then they walked away at a leisurely pace. Still no cab to be found.

Poe stayed spread-eagled on the ground, unblinking. The warmth of the blood flowing from his neck was the only thing he could pay attention to. His hand drifted up to the wound and probed delicately; it wasn’t deep. He would live.

He noticed more wet warmth flowing from the side of his head and remembered the kick that had stunned him temporarily. After a while, he’d forgotten about the cab completely and a heavy exhaustion fell like a blanket over him.

Just when he was about to fall asleep, he heard the hum of a car engine. With the last of his strength, he held up an arm to signal it.

At first, he thought he heard it pulling away. Then, he heard the engine turn off. The slamming of a car door.

“Holy— holy fuck,” a voice said. “Holy shit.” Poe’s eyes drifted to him and he saw him pull his phone out of his pocket.

“I can’t afford an ambulance,” Poe mumbled, too quiet for the cab driver to hear. Then his eyes drifted shut.

***

He woke up in a hospital, completely exhausted. His body felt heavy. He could hear three people talking to each other at the end of his bed.

“You were the only person we could call,” one of them said.

“It looks like he was targeted,” said another. “We found one of those Jew hats next to him.”

“A yarmulke,” the first one said.

“Yeah. A yahmukkah.”

“But… I don’t know him,” the third person said.

“Your phone number was in his pocket,” the second person said. “His phone was destroyed by whoever attacked him.”

“I don’t know— I don’t know what to tell you, officer. I don’t know who this guy is.”

Poe’s eyes, with great difficulty, drifted open. He looked at the three people. One of them was a man in his forties with smart-looking glasses and streaks of grey in his hair. The other one was a cop. The last was a man about Poe’s age. A complete stranger.

Poe murmured something, catching their attention.

They came closer.

“What did you say, Mr. Dameron?”

“I’m… Poe,” he mustered, looking at the stranger sleepily. “I’m F… Frank and Jill’s waiter.”


	2. Everything's Fine

“Walk me through it one more time, Poe. What did they look like?”

Poe sighed. “There has to be footage of them. They were on the bus. There’s cameras on buses, right?”

There were two cops standing at the end of his bed; Poe was sitting up now, propped up by his stiff hospital pillows. The side of his head was an epicenter of pain, echoed by the other cuts and bruises all over his body.

“We still need your description,” one of them, a stout woman, said gently.

Once more, Poe gave a detailed description of the three men, especially the leader.

“His name was Tim. I don’t know the names of the others.”

“And you said you were their waiter earlier tonight?”

He nodded. “They paid in cash.”

“Why didn’t you get off the bus sooner?” The other cop said, itching his nose. It was the same one who had been speaking with the doctor and the stranger when Poe woke up.

“I thought they would see me try to leave. And I also thought I was overreacting. I kept waiting for them to get off first.”

Behind the cheap blinds of Poe’s hospital room windows, he saw the silhouette of the stranger. Frank and Jill’s grandson. Why he was still here was beyond him.

“And they didn’t,” the first officer prompted. Poe glanced at her name badge.

_Johanson._

Poe shook his head. “No. They didn’t.”

“What exactly did they say to you?”

Poe closed his eyes while he thought. “They didn’t have a lot to say. They called me a kyke. Fucking Jew faggot.” He knit his eyebrows. “And then when Tim had his razor on my neck he— he said— ‘I could do it. I want you to know that.’”

“Do what?”

“Kill me. He could have killed me.”

“Do you think he intended to?”

“He left me on the ground with a concussion and a sliced neck. It was forty degrees outside.”

She nodded. Wrote something in her notebook. Poe watched the pen move across the paper.

“But I guess… he also left me my wallet so I could get a cab home,” he considered. “Maybe he didn’t think I was hurt that bad. I don’t know.”

“Was there any indication that these men knew where you lived?”

Poe’s heart thudded at the thought. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But they found out my name, and I guess… I guess Poe isn’t a super common name.” He knit his eyebrows. “They know I’m a Jew. They could look at my synagogue registry. They could probably find me.” He felt his breath quicken. “They could find me pretty easily.”

“We’ll find them first, Mr. Dameron.”

“We’ll try,” her partner corrected, glancing sideways at her.

“It can’t—” Poe almost laughed. “It can’t be that fuckin’ hard to find them. They— they were on the bus. There are cameras on buses. I mean— I mean, there are cameras on buses.”

“Watch your language, Mr. Dameron.”

Poe huffed.

“Cameras don’t give us names,” Johanson said.

_“Tim.”_

“Tim is a very common name. Unlike Poe,” her partner said in a monotone.

Johanson and Poe both glared at him.

He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’. I would get something to protect myself if I was him.”

“So, that’s it?” Poe said quietly. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“We’re at the beginning of the investigation,” Johanson reminded him. “We’re pursuing any lead we can.”

“They— they were wearing suits,” Poe pleaded. “They obviously worked in some office setting. They were rich. Can’t you find the footage of them and put it on the news?”

“It’s more complicated than that, kid.”

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Poe spat. “Don’t— don’t call me— _shit—”_ Poe squeezed his eyes shut to keep more tears from spilling. “I just want you to fucking find them.”

“We’ll try, Poe,” Johanson soothed. “In the meantime, is there anyone we can contact to inform them of your condition? A parent or sibling? Significant other?”

Poe cast his eyes down at his plain white blanket. “No. No one.”

“We’ll send for the doctor,” she said. Her partner walked out of the room without a word. After a moment of hesitation, she followed.

A few minutes later, Dr. Parker entered. He wore a kind smile as he looked at Poe’s chart. “How are we feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Well,” Parker chuckled, “that’s normal with a concussion.”

“I was tired before I got a concussion.”

“I feel that,” Parker joked.

“I just want to go home,” Poe said quietly.

Parker sobered. “Can’t do that quite yet. I’ll have to keep you overnight for observation.”

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Not anymore, you don’t,” Parker told him.

Poe opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I’m poor,” he managed. “I have to work.”

Parker checked his clipboard again. “How’s the pain? Scale of one to ten?”

Poe shrugged. “I dunno. Four or five.”

“Any trouble breathing?”

Poe took an experimental deep breath. “No.”

“No broken ribs then!”

Poe stared. “That’s wonderful news.”

Parker smiled at him over his glasses. “I think you’ll be able to go back to work very soon, Poe. Just not tomorrow.”

Movement behind the blinds reminded Poe of the stranger’s presence. He frowned as he watched the shifting shadow.

“Why is he still here?” he murmured.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Parker replied. “You don’t know each other?”

Poe shook his head.

“Beats me,” Parker said. “Seems like a good kid. Concern for the stranger, I guess.”

Poe didn’t know how to respond to that. There was a long stretch of silence.

“Welp, if there’s nothing else right now, I’ll check back later,” Parker said. He grabbed the remote off Poe’s side table and handed it to him. “Lots of good channels to watch.”

Poe had settled on _Antiques Roadshow_ when the stranger walked in again. For some reason, Poe didn’t want to look at him, so he kept his eyes on the TV. His cheeks felt hot.

“Are you okay?” The stranger’s voice was low. Gentle.

Poe shrugged. “I’m fine.”

The stranger shifted on his feet. “Your name is Poe?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Finn,” he said.

Poe looked at him. “Okay.”

His tightly coiled hair was short, an even length all over. He wore an aged gray sweatshirt with a rip in the collar, and there was a stain on his jeans. A navy blue windbreaker hung over one arm.

“I— there’s no one else here,” Finn said, eyes cast to the floor.

Poe knit his eyebrows. “You can leave.”

“Yeah.” Finn didn’t move. He met Poe’s eyes briefly. “What happened to you?”

Poe looked at the television again. “I got hate crimed, dude.”

Finn sat down in the chair next to Poe’s bed and watched the TV. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s…” He shook his head. He was about to say it was okay. It wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay.

“Did they find the guys who did it?”

Poe pursed his lips. “I have every confidence that they will never find the guys who did it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn nod. “Where are they?”

“If I knew, I’d—” Poe glanced at him and saw Finn still watching the TV. “You mean them?” he asked, pointing at it.

Finn nodded.

“Oh. Nashville, I think.”

“They did one in Minneapolis a few years ago with this million dollar pocket watch.”

“I saw that one,” Poe said. “That was the best episode I’ve ever seen.”

“It was a nonstop thrillride,” Finn said seriously.

Poe cracked a smile.

“So why did you have my number?”

“Oh. Um.” Poe’s eyes flitted this way and that. “Your grandparents— I work at this restaurant. And they’ve been coming there for years. They love me. They gave me your number because they wanted me to ask you out.”

Finn blushed deeply and looked around, even though the room was empty. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn sighed. “They’re trying to be supportive.”

Poe shrugged. “Better than the alternative,” he said quietly.

Finn looked at him. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“I wasn’t gonna call you,” Poe said. He glanced at Finn again. “I would have thrown it out. Your number. Just in case you were, like, thinking this was our meet cute or something. It’s not.”

Finn leaned back in the chair. “That was kind of rude.”

Poe shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry if you don’t mean it.”

Poe reached for the glass of water on the table and took a sip. “Okay.”

Finn crossed his arms. “So you don’t have anyone else to be here with you?”

“Not really.”

“What does that mean?” Finn asked. “‘Not really.’”

“It means I don’t talk to my dad and my mom is dead.”

There was a beat.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Poe murmured, then knit his eyebrows. “Why did you even come here in the first place?”

Finn shrugged. “I got a phone call… they said there was a young man who’d been attacked. Asked if I knew a Poe Dameron. I said no.”

“Right, that’s when I would’ve hung up.”

“I thought about it. I thought it might be some weird scam.” Finn adjusted himself in his chair. “But then I was like… Some guy has my phone number and they don’t know who else to call. He’s alone. And he’s probably scared. And maybe I can… provide some comfort. I dunno.”

“I don’t need… Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be.”

Finn glared at him, then shook his head. “I don’t think you get to choose when other people are nice to you.”

Poe rolled his eyes and gestured down the length of his bruised body. “Obviously fucking not.”

“I can leave,” Finn threatened.

“Please do.”

Finn didn’t move. Poe stared, unseeing, at the TV screen.

“Are you hungry?” Finn asked quietly, after a lengthy silence.

Poe cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“I can grab you some food.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s fine,” Finn said. “There’s a chicken sandwich in the cafeteria that’s pretty unoffensive.”

Poe shrugged. “Fine.” Finn stood up. “There’s a ten in my wallet,” he added.

“I’m keeping the coins as a tip.”

Poe’s mouth twitched. “That’s fine.”

Finn took the bill out of the wallet and left the room. Poe turned his attention back to the TV.

_Antiques Roadshow_ ended and the station started showing an old episode of _Downton Abbey._ Finn was gone for so long that Poe thought he’d left; he decided to try and sleep, but he couldn’t seem to close his eyes.

Finally, Finn came back, white paper bag in hand. He handed it to Poe, who sat up again.

“Sorry it took so long. Big hospital.”

“It’s okay,” Poe said quietly. “Thank… thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He took the sandwich out of the foil wrapper and opened the bun. Finn glanced between him and the sandwich.

“Everything okay?”

Poe closed the sandwich again. “Yeah. I was just…” He looked at him for a moment. “Just checking for bacon.”

Finn nodded. “I had them leave it off. I wasn’t sure if you keep kosher.”

Poe watched him carefully. “That was nice of you.”

“It’s not a big deal. The bacon here is shit anyway.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t… y’know. You didn’t have to do that.”

Finn shrugged.

Poe took a bite. “This is pretty good,” he said thickly.

“Yeah.”

“This is…” Poe felt tears prick his eyes. “This is really good.”

Finn frowned. “Are you… okay?”

Poe shook his head silently. The tears overflowed and he set down the sandwich with shaking hands. “I thought I was gonna die,” he whispered.

Finn observed him quietly. “What did they use?”

“Straight razor.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah. Like it’s fuckin’ 1953 or something.”

“You must be angry,” Finn said quietly.

Poe blinked slowly. Wiped a tear. “It was humiliating.”

“They make you feel like you’re nothing,” Finn said.

Poe closed his eyes. “It was like… I almost _wanted_ to die. Just so it would be over.”

“And it’s, like… funny to them. Your pain.”

“Like you’re not human,” Poe murmured.

“Yeah.”

Poe looked at him. “I’ve actually… I never thought I could be this mad. Ever.”

“I know what you mean.”

“If they were here, I would kill them,” Poe quavered. “I would kill them.”

Finn could only nod. Poe stared at the bruises on his own arms.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “You can leave. You’re probably tired.”

“I’m gonna stay the night,” Finn yawned. “Then in the morning I’ll leave you alone.”

***

He awoke to a thin strip of sunlight beating down on his eyelids. The chair next to him was empty and there was a piece of paper on the bedside table. Poe reached for it. The handwriting was messy, written exclusively in capital letters.

_In case you need to talk to someone._

Finn’s number was scribbled below. Poe stared at the digits for a moment and set the paper back on the table.

The door opened gently.

“Morning.” A nurse pushing a cart filled with food trays came in. She set up Poe’s hospital bed food stand with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. How do I dial out? I have to call in to work.”

“Press 9, then the number,” she said. “Pancakes or sausage?”

“Pancakes,” Poe said. “Thanks.”

She set the tray in front of him; a glass of orange juice and a covered styrofoam cup of coffee sloshed around. Two small pancakes sat in the middle of the tray; a pat of butter wrapped in foil lay next to them, along with a small tub of maple syrup. A tiny, rock-hard apple rounded out the meal.

The nurse quickly took his vitals and wrote them down, then pushed the food cart out of the room; Poe took a bite of his pancakes and picked up the phone on his bedside, starting to dial the restaurant. Then, without thinking, he pressed the switch hook and dialed a different number, one he didn’t even know he remembered.

It rang a few times before a gruff voice answered. “Yeah.”

“Dad.”

Silence on the other end.

Poe blinked. “Dad?”

“What?”

“I…” Poe chewed his lip. “Sorry. Hi.”

“What number is this?”

“It’s… I was… I’m at the hospital,” Poe mumbled.

“Speak up.”

“I’m at the— the hospital,” he said.

“Well, I can’t give you any money.”

“No, I— I know,” Poe said quietly.

“What did you do?”

“These guys… beat me up,” he said. “I mean, I was— they attacked me. I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well.”

Poe frowned. “Well, what?”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just wanted you to know, I guess.”

More silence. “You sound fine.”

Poe swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I— I’m fine.”

“I don’t like calls from unknown numbers. Don’t call me from there again.”

“Well, they broke my phone,” he explained. “The guys who— who attacked me.”

An exasperated sigh. “I’ll send you a hundred bucks.”

“I don’t— I don’t need your money, Dad. Jesus,” he argued. “I just thought— you might want to know, y’know, if your son was in the hospital. Sorry for bothering you.”

Poe hung up the phone.

He stared at his pancakes. Took another bite, then a sip of orange juice. Then he picked up the receiver again and dialed work.

The phone rang for a long time before the answering machine finally picked up; Poe checked the time. It was eight in the morning.

“You’ve reached New Republic Eatery and Gastropub. Unfortunately, you have called outside of business hours. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Hey, Amilyn, it’s— it’s Poe,” he mustered. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to come in tomorrow. Today, I mean. Tonight. I, uh… I’m in the hospital. I’m fine,” he added quickly, “but they’re having me stay. For observation. But I’m okay. Don’t worry. I’ll call again later— they broke my phone, so you can’t really call me. Unless you want to call the hospital. I’m at—” He looked around. “I don’t know which hospital I’m at. I’m sorry.”

He hung up the phone again.

He looked again at the piece of paper on his bedside.

_In case you need to talk to someone._

Then he pushed his picked-over breakfast away, settled back on his stiff pillows, and tried to fall back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I really appreciate ya.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this one.


	3. Shabbat Shalom

He shrugged off his coat, adjusted his turtleneck, and enjoyed the relative quiet of the back room, taking out his apron and unraveling it from its bundle.

“Poe! I wasn’t sure you’d make it in today.”

Poe jumped. Hesitantly, he met Amilyn’s eyes.

He saw brief surprise at his appearance on her usually serene face, but she quickly recovered. “Can I speak to you in my office?”

He nodded before following her into the small room and closing the door behind him. She sat down and motioned to the other chair; he remained standing.

He waited for her to speak.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good. I got Armitage to cover your shift last night.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

She was quiet for a beat. “Can I ask what happened?”

“The cops haven’t talked to you?”

Amilyn frowned. “I suppose they haven’t yet.”

“I got… I got mugged,” he said, chest tightening at the lie.

She nodded slowly. “Poe, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with anyone,” he said. “I just want everyone to ignore it.”

“I’ll let the staff know.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it today?” she asked gently, eyes travelling over Poe’s swollen, discolored face. “I asked Rose to come in since I didn’t know if you’d be here, so we’re fully staffed.”

Poe nodded. “I know I look awful, but I’ll take anything you can give me.”

Amilyn hesitated.

“Please,” he said quietly, eyes cast downward. “Even if it’s just for an hour.”

She sighed. “How about section five?”

***

Section five was secluded, quiet, intimate. At first he’d wanted to argue with Amilyn’s assigning him here, but his eyes didn’t seem to be hurting so much in this low light. The calm reduced the pounding in his head to a dull ache, and he even began to hum to himself while he set up his tables. No one had acknowledged his injuries yet, so he assumed that Amilyn had somehow communicated his wishes to everybody.

Turns out, she’d missed someone.

“Y’know I had to work with fuckin’ Armitage last night because of you?” Ben’s sarcastic monotone sounded from behind him.

Poe tried to cover up the start Ben’s voice had given him. He turned to face his friend and saw that he wasn’t looking at him.

“What’s with the new kippah, you lost mine already?” Ben continued, laying sets of silverware on the placemats.

Poe adjusted his collar again. At his silence, Ben looked up.

More silence stretched between them. The bruises on Poe’s face seemed to tint darker as he blushed, waiting for Ben to say something.

Ben took in his appearance with his mouth ajar. “What the fuck?”

He couldn’t reply.

“Poe, what the fuck.” Ben stepped closer and inspected him. His eyes didn’t seem to know what to look at first; they jumped from bruise to bruise. He touched Poe’s collar and Poe flinched; Ben drew his hand away. “Sorry. I— Jesus, man. What happened to you?”

He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to tell the truth, either.

“I, um…” Poe looked around. “I was in the hospital.”

“Yeah, dude, I can see that,” Ben replied. “When did you get out?”

“This morning.”

Ben shook his head slightly as he stared at him.

Poe cleared his throat. “I was… I got a concussion.”

“How?”

Ben’s eyes bore into his until he couldn’t take it anymore; he stared at a random point on the wall behind Ben instead.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he murmured.

“I won’t.”

Poe swallowed thickly. “I got… they— they tried— they took—” He grasped fruitlessly for his missing necklace. Ben stilled. “It was those— those guys,” he managed.

Ben’s cheeks darkened. “Those customers from the other night? They did this to you?”

Poe nodded. His gaze drifted to the floor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Ben said lowly. “I’m gonna f— I’m—” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I should’ve taken them,” he muttered. “No, I— I should have kicked them out! What the fuck was I thinking!”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Poe said quietly.

A beat. “What’s under the bandage?”

After a moment of hesitation, Poe pulled down his turtleneck collar and peeled away the bandage on his neck to reveal a thin wound sealed by four stitches. Ben stared at it.

“What is that?” His voice was deadly quiet.

“They cut me with a razor.”

Ben sat down at one of his tables. Poe glanced at him. “You could have died,” Ben said.

Poe shrugged. “It wasn’t that deep.”

“It could have been, Poe.… Did you tell your dad?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. I called him.”

“What did he say?”

“Not a whole lot.”

“You told him you were attacked for being a Jew… and he didn’t say a whole lot?”

Poe shifted on his feet. “I didn’t tell him that part. I just said I was attacked.”

Ben watched him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Poe met his eyes briefly. “I mean, he’s not an easy person to— to tell things.”

After a moment, Ben nodded.

“I couldn’t— he wouldn’t let me talk,” Poe added defensively. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell him.”

“Yeah.”

“He would’ve just blamed me again!” Poe rushed. “I don’t have to deal with that shit anymore. I knew exactly what he would say if I told him.”

“Then why did you call him?” Ben asked quietly.

Poe stared at him. Let out a bitter laugh. “Fuck you, dude.”

Ben frowned. “Fuck me?”

“Yeah. Fuck you.”

Ben stood back up, but he looked smaller than usual. He looked at Poe sadly; Poe felt anger pulse in his fingertips.

“It’s not my fucking fault he hasn’t changed, it’s not my fault for checking,” Poe forced. “How many chances has he had to apologize? I gave him one more, and he didn’t take it, and you blame me for trying? Fuck you.”

Ben stayed quiet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered.

Another beat. “Poe, why are you here?”

Poe frowned. “What?”

“You only missed one shift,” Ben said. “You got out of the hospital, what, two hours ago? You’re obviously still upset. You should take a day off.”

“I’m… I’m _poor,_ Ben!” He almost started to laugh. “I have no money. And now I’m going to be in debt for… forever! I’m fucked. I’m fucking _fucked.”_ He felt his lungs getting shallower. “I have to work until I fucking die.”

Ben seemed to be at a loss for words. “But… if we find them… if we find the guys…”

“We won’t,” Poe said simply. “We won’t. But hey,” he added, pulling a brand-new switchblade out of his pocket and pressing the release— the blade swung out with a _click._ Ben’s eyes widened. “If we do, I’m ready, right?”

“Put that away,” Ben said quietly, stepping closer to shield Poe from the view of anyone who might walk by.

Poe rolled his eyes and tucked the blade in. Slid the knife back into his pocket.

Ben looked down at him. “I don’t think you should be here today.”

“I need the—”

“I’ll give you my tips. It’s a Friday lunch, Poe, it’s not even that much.”

Poe glared at him. “I’m not a fucking charity.”

“I’m just giving tzedakah, dude. Not a big deal, just take it.”

“I already told Amilyn I was fine.”

“She’ll understand if you’re not. I can talk to her.”

“I just— I just want to be left alone,” Poe groaned. “I would be completely fine if everybody wasn’t looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you are right now! Like I’m one of those Humane Society commercials with the sad dogs.”

Ben frowned. “Okay. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.”

His eyes flitted down to Poe’s pocket. “You’re not actually going to use that,” he tried.

Poe sighed. “It just makes me feel better to have it. I’m not stupid, Ben.”

Ben nodded. “Okay. I’m just gonna… treat you like normal.”

“That’s what I want.”

Ben chewed on his lip and returned to his forgotten task of laying silverware. “They took my kippah?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Well, then… you owe me a new one, you bastard,” Ben said, attempting a smile.

Poe’s mouth twitched. “I’ll get right on that.”

***

Poe bundled his apron and tugged on his coat, trying to stay out of the way of the servers still on duty. Ben did the same.

“Hey, I was thinking you could come over tonight and watch a movie,” Ben said casually as he buttoned his coat.

“It’s Shabbat,” Poe replied simply.

“Ah, fuck. Yeah.” They made their way out of the restaurant; a few of their coworkers waved goodbye. Ben eyed him as they waved politely back. “You can’t take one Shabbat off?”

“You ask me that every Shabbat.”

“I know, but when you’re an adult, you don’t _have_ to do it,” Ben argued lightly. “You’re alone in your shitty apartment watching Netflix and your rabbi mom calls you after havdalah and asks if you had a restful Shabbat and y’know what you say?”

Poe rolled his eyes. “You say yes?”

“You say yes, Poe. Exactly.”

Poe smiled and shook his head. “I like it.”

They arrived at the bus stop and stood with their hands bundled in their pockets. “Are you going to services?”

Poe blew out his cheeks. “I don’t think so. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Ben smiled, elbowing him gently.

“I feel like shit,” Poe admitted. “I don’t think I could handle a hundred elderly Jews asking me what happened to my face.”

Ben nodded. “How about tomorrow night?” he asked carefully. “After havdalah? I can pick you up so you don’t have to pay the bus fare.”

Poe considered for a moment. “Maybe. I might just want to sleep. And you’re gonna lose your parking spot if you pick me up.”

Ben’s bus screeched to a stop in front of them and knelt down with a hiss. “You’ll sleep when you’re dead,” Ben said as he stepped on. “And one parking ticket won’t kill me. I’ll text you.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Poe reminded him, and Ben swore.

“I’ll just have to swing by, then!” he called as the bus door swung shut.

Poe cracked a smile which vanished as soon as the bus pulled away.

***

Poe covered his eyes and recited the Shabbat candle blessing, then stared into the flames for longer than normal, barely blinking. He tried hard to think of something he was thankful for this week. He supposed he was thankful to be alive.

He was thankful for Mrs. Friedman next door, and the soup she rushed to give him on his way into his apartment every Friday. And she always made an extra challah for him. And she’d done the same thing this week without even acknowledging his bruises.

He’d bought a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream the night before he was attacked, and it was still in the freezer. At the time, it had seemed like an unnecessary purchase, but he was thankful for it now.

He was thankful for the stranger. Finn. Poe had been an asshole to him, but he seemed like a good person. He was kind.

Poe frowned and took out his wallet, bringing out the crumpled piece of paper with Finn’s number on it. It reflected the golden light of the Shabbat candles; he tilted it so that the fading light of the sky was on it instead, then stared at the phone number again.

A soft scratching on the window made him spring to his feet, almost knocking over his candles and his soup— heart hammering in his chest, he took his knife out of his pocket and crept closer to the window.

Vivid images of table 23 played out in his mind— they were here. They were outside. They’d found him. Tim’s pointed face would be on the other side of the glass, grinning at him. He would die. His challah would go stale and his body would be found next Shabbat when Mrs. Friedman came to drop off his soup.

The scratching came again. Poe saw what the source was and straightened up, blushing even though no one could see him.

It was a branch. It was just a branch.

He tucked the knife back in and laid his hand on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. He slowly went back to his tiny kitchen table. His hand shook violently as he picked up his kiddush cup; he blinked as he stared at his fingers.

Then, all at once, he started to cry.

It wasn’t the quiet crying he’d managed in the hospital. It was the real, lung-tearing, painful kind. The sound of it filled up his apartment. He couldn’t seem to stop.

There was a knock on his front door. He let out another sob and covered his mouth.

“Poe? Are you okay in there?”

It was Mrs. Friedman. Poe took his quaking hand away from his mouth and stood up, grabbing the piece of paper off the table and making his way to the door.

His neighbor’s worried face greeted him on the other side.

“Poe, is everything—”

“I need to use your phone,” Poe mumbled.

Mrs. Friedman paused. “It’s Shabbat.”

“I know it’s fucking Shabbat,” Poe replied quietly; he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for my language, Mrs. Friedman. I need to use your phone.”

She looked at him for a moment, then stepped aside. Behind her, her apartment door was open. Her husband hovered behind it, staring at Poe with an alarmed expression.

Poe walked across the hall.

“It’s in the kitchen, Poe,” Mr. Friedman said uncertainly as Poe entered.

Poe wiped his face roughly with his sleeve. “Thank you.”

He went into the kitchen, trying and failing to hold back another sob.

A Shabbat meal, almost identical to his own, lay forgotten on the kitchen table. An aged, avocado green telephone hung on the wall; it took Poe’s shaking fingers three tries to punch in the phone number correctly.

The Friedmans stood together at the kitchen door and watched him silently. Poe wiped his face repeatedly as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

Poe cleared his throat. “Is this Finn?”

“Yeah, is this— who is this?”

“Um, it’s Poe, from the other night.”

“Yes, hey, how are you?” Finn said, and Poe was relieved to hear that he actually sounded interested in the answer.

“I’m okay,” Poe responded automatically, then paused. In the middle of his tears, he almost started to laugh. “Um. That’s— no. I’m not okay, actually.”

He heard a shuffling sound, maybe of Finn standing up. “What do you need?”

Poe glanced at his neighbors in the doorway. “I— I guess I need to talk to someone,” he said quietly.

He listened as Finn took the phone away from his face for a moment and murmured something to somebody. Poe blinked. “Do you want to talk on the phone, or do you want to meet somewhere?” he said, to Poe this time.

“Uh… that’s okay, you’re busy,” Poe said. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Finn hurried. “Really. I can talk.”

“I’m on my neighbor’s phone right now,” Poe said.

“That’s okay, we can meet somewhere, a cafe or something,” Finn said softly. “If you want,” he amended.

Poe swallowed. “I’m not really supposed to, um, travel, or— or spend money, or.…” He glanced once again at his neighbors. They were whispering to each other. He frowned and took the phone away from his face, staring at the receiver in his hand. He sighed and brought the phone closer again. “D’you know Light Roast?”

“Yeah, I can be there in ten minutes.”

Poe was quiet for a moment. “Finn, you don’t know me. You— you really don’t have to.”

“I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Poe let out another sigh. “Okay. Um… yeah. I’ll see you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate the comments you folks have left so far! Please do let me know if you liked this one.


	4. Light Roast

He ducked into Light Roast, dripping onto the weathered concrete floor. He swiped his hair out of his face and shivered in his drenched sweater as he looked around. The place had a warm, industrial feel to it; the lighting shone gold on the metallic accents and furniture. It was a large space, so the sounds of steaming milk and grinding coffee beans bounced off the walls— any conversation among the patrons was private, drowned out by the frenzied activity of the baristas. Jazz saxophone trickled out of the speakers.

The cafe was just a few blocks from his house, but he’d only been inside a couple times; coffee had never felt like a necessary purchase until tonight.

Finn wasn’t here yet.

“Welcome in,” one of the baristas called from behind the counter; Poe wasn’t sure which, so he aimed a strained smile in their general direction, then made a beeline for the bathroom.

As soon as he’d locked the door, he pulled off his yellow sweater and held it under the motion-activated hand dryer, cursing the fact that his only rain jacket had been ruined with his own blood when he was attacked, as well as the fact that he’d always assumed he’d never need an umbrella, given the fact that he’d had a perfectly good rain jacket.

After a few minutes, the sweater didn’t feel quite so miserable, and he stepped away from the dryer to pull it back on when his reflection in the mirror caught his eye.

He stared at the bruises staining his chest and stomach, the cuts and breaks in the skin made by the boots of the men who had attacked him. He gently touched one of the uglier injuries and was surprised to see that the pain didn’t register on his face. His face was nothing; a blank canvas. He turned away from the mirror and pulled on his sweater again before pushing out the door.

Finn was sitting at a table with a mug in front of him— Poe was in the bathroom for longer than he’d thought. Finn gave a small wave when their eyes met and Poe nodded in return.

“Hi there, how are you?” the barista, a kid no older than seventeen, smiled. His eyes were trained on Poe’s, resisting the urge to stare at the rest of his face.

“I’m okay. I’ll just have a small coffee, whatever you have brewed.”

“Room for cream?”

“Sure.”

“For here?”

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be two dollars.”

Poe gave him the money and put an extra dollar in the tip jar.

After he’d added his cream and sugar at the bar, he sat across from Finn.

Finn smiled. “Hi, Poe.”

“I’m sorry I asked you here,” Poe replied immediately, gripping his mug for warmth. “It—”

“It’s okay.”

“It sounded like you were busy, y’know, it’s Friday night, I get it—”

“Poe, it’s okay.”

“I just— if you want to leave, you can. I won’t be offended. You don’t know me.”

“Poe, really. I’m glad to be here.”

Poe quieted. He took a sip of his coffee. It was good— it was sweet. “Thank you for coming.”

“You sounded pretty upset on the phone,” Finn said gently.

Poe sighed. “It was stupid,” he said. “I was just being stupid.”

“What happened?”

“I was about to eat dinner and a branch scratched on the window and I freaked out. I just broke down.”

“You thought it was them?”

Poe nodded. “I thought they’d showed up to kill me.” He forced a chuckle. “It was dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. It’s normal.”

He hesitated. “I was so loud my neighbors heard me from their kitchen,” he admitted, chewing his lip. “Have you ever cried like that?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Yeah, I have.”

Poe took a sip of coffee. “I just grabbed your number and called you. I didn’t really think about it.”

“I’m glad you did.” Finn cracked a smile. “I turned off call filtering after I left the hospital so I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Oh, I bet it was totally worth it,” Poe droned.

Finn looked at him seriously. Poe flushed. “Of course it was,” Finn said.

Poe met his eyes briefly, then frowned at his coffee. “You’re, like… uncommonly kind.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Finn asked, tilting his head.

“No, it’s just not something I’m used to.” Poe paused, then smiled. “That sounded way more pathetic than I meant it to. I just meant—” He watched, amused, as Finn broke into a chuckle. “I just meant it’s not very common for a stranger to act how you’re acting.”

Finn shrugged. “I guess not.”

It was quiet between them for a moment; Poe searched for something to talk about other than his traumatic Shabbat dinner. “So… where did you grow up?” he asked.

Finn blinked at the question, then smiled. “I grew up in the suburbs until I was fourteen, then I moved here.”

“Why did you move?”

Finn shifted in his seat. “I went to live with my grandparents.”

“Frank and Jill.”

“Yeah. Frank and Jill,” Finn chuckled.

“They’re my favorite customers.”

“They’re pretty great.”

“What was your major in college?”

“I, um, never finished,” Finn said, taking a sip of his coffee. “But I was pre-law.”

“You want to be a lawyer?”

“I did,” Finn shrugged. “Or… I dunno. I thought I did. I don’t really know what I want to do now.” He looked at Poe. “What was your major?”

“Education. Like, uh, science education.”

“You wanted to be a teacher?”

“I was a teacher,” Poe said, drinking some coffee. “Two years.”

Finn watched him. “You didn’t like it?”

Poe pursed his lips. “You ever seen Bill Nye?”

“Yeah, everyone loves Bill Nye.”

“Right, well, I became a teacher because of _Bill Nye the Science Guy._ I thought it would be fun.”

“And… it wasn’t?” Finn tried.

“No, it was. It was fun,” Poe admitted. “But it’s a really frustrating job. I think I really just wanted to make their lives a little better. The kids, I mean. Or inspire them somehow. But you— you teach your little lessons to a hundred fifty kids a day and they just file in and out of your classroom… and you don’t know if you’re helping them. Like, you really don’t know. And most teachers have the patience to keep going, but I didn’t. I just felt like I was failing them.” Poe slowly swirled his coffee with a stirring stick and watched the lazy bubbles float in circles. “Sorry, that was a little heavy,” he added with an apologetic smile.

Finn just shook his head. “I’m sure you affected at least one kid.”

Poe’s smile faded.“Yeah. I hope so. My dad said I was stupid for even trying.”

“What did he want you to be?”

“He’s a lawyer,” Poe smiled ruefully. “He wanted me to be a lawyer.”

“Why not a teacher?”

“He always said I wouldn’t make enough money. And I think he has this mindset like teachers don’t accomplish anything— like they just teach about other people’s accomplishments. So then, what— only lawyers accomplish shit? What’s he accomplished?” Poe attempted a laugh.

“Why didn’t you want to be a lawyer?”

“Because I hate my dad,” Poe joked, and Finn gave a half-smile. Poe sobered. “Um, no, it’s— well, he was always working. He never had time for my mom, and he was always mad at her. Like it was her fault he worked so much. And he— he and I are pretty similar to begin with. When I have a family, I don’t want to waste it like he did. And I’m gonna let my kids do whatever the fuck they want with their lives.” Poe stirred his coffee absently. “Finn, I was an asshole to you the other night. I’m sorry.”

Finn shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do. There was no excuse for me to treat you that way.”

“You almost died,” Finn reminded him gently.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, it’s— it’s okay, Poe. I forgive you.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Did Frank and Jill make you do pre-law?”

“Nah, that was all me. High school was really tough for me, but I was in a pretty good place coming out of it. It was probably a little ambitious for me to think I could do pre-law, but I think they were just happy I wanted to do… like, anything.”

Poe watched him. “How was it tough?” At Finn’s expression, he blushed. “Oh, you don’t— you don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Finn said quietly. He took a sip of coffee. “I was— for a long time, like… like, a _long_ time, I was an alcoholic. I guess I still am, but I’m eighteen months sober.”

“Oh,” Poe managed; Finn met his eyes with a smile. “Shit, man.”

Finn chuckled. “Yeah. That’s why I moved to the city, my parents thought it would be good for me.”

“Was it?”

Finn considered. “I think it would have been the same anywhere. I think blaming it on my location would be kinda like blaming my parents, or blaming my grandparents. But it was just something I was dealing with.”

“Yeah,” Poe said. “You said you moved to the city when you were fourteen?”

“Yup. I started drinking when I was thirteen. My parents had no idea what to do. My grandpa was an alcoholic too, so they thought he would be able to help me.”

“Did he?”

Finn shrugged. “Do you have any addicts in your family? Or know any?”

“No. I mean, my mom’s parents were pretty heavy drinkers, but I didn’t know them.”

“Well, it’s— it’s complicated,” Finn said, glancing at him. “Your family can be perfect, y’know? They can do everything they’re supposed to do, love you, give you advice… but the only person who can get you to stop is you. I think my parents thought my grandpa could say some magic word and I’d stop drinking, but there is no magic word.”

Poe was quiet as he watched Finn speak, then sipped his coffee slowly. “What made you stop?”

Finn paused, then shrugged. “Just felt like the right time.”

Poe had a feeling there was more to it than that, but he wasn’t going to pry any further than he already had.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?” Finn asked quietly.

Poe broke into a laugh.

Finn watched him with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing, I just feel like we did it backwards,” Poe said. “I usually ask someone that towards the beginning and then we eventually work our way up to the failed careers and addictions.”

Finn laughed too. “Well, we did meet in a hospital. So it fits.”

Poe nodded. _“The Prince of Egypt,”_ he answered.

“That animated one?” Finn grinned.

“It’s the greatest movie ever made.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Really? I’ve never seen it.”

“A lot of people haven’t. That’s why the world is terrible.”

Finn laughed. “I’ll have to watch it.”

“You do, you have to,” Poe smiled. “What’s your favorite?”

“I think probably _It’s a Wonderful Life._ Have you seen it?”

Poe shook his head. “Just bits and pieces.”

“I don’t even watch it just at Christmastime. It just always makes me feel better, no matter what’s going on. Makes me happy to be alive.”

“That’s the best kind of movie. That’s what _The Prince of Egypt_ does for me.”

“My coworker—” Finn started to laugh— “My coworker a few years ago— she was new, y’know, I was trying to get to know her, and I asked, ‘Hey, Kaylee, what’s your favorite movie?’ And she said— she thought real hard and she said _Fifty Shades Darker.”_

Poe stared. “That was her _favorite_ movie?”

“That’s what I said!” Finn grinned. “I said, ‘That’s… that’s the _best movie_ you’ve _ever seen?’”_

Poe laughed.

“It felt like that camera effect in movies, y’know, where the camera zooms in while zooming out? To portray mental unrest?”

“The dolly zoom?”

“Yeah, sure, the dolly zoom,” Finn said. “It was wild. She was the best coworker I’ve ever had.”

“I guess, y’know, if _Fifty Shades Darker_ made her happy to be alive, who are we to judge?” Poe smiled.

“I did. I judged.”

“Where do you work?”

“She was at a different job, a bar I used to work at,” Finn said. “But now I work at New Leaf, that bookstore on Jefferson.”

“I’ve always wanted to go in there,” Poe mused. “It seems cozy.”

“It is. I love it. And my best friend works there, too, so I get to hang out with her all the time.”

“How long have you known her?”

“We met during my short stint at college. So, like… shit, like ten years.” Finn blew out his cheeks. “I’m old, Poe.”

“Twenty eight’s not old. You’re not old until you’re thirty five.”

Finn considered for a moment. “That makes complete sense.”

Poe nodded sagely. “When I’m thirty five, I’ll probably have a different opinion.”

Finn watched him. “You’re really easy to talk to, Poe.”

“Probably easier than the other night,” Poe said, smile slipping.

There was a beat. “How have you been?” Finn asked gently. “Other than dinner?”

Poe sipped his coffee. “Um… I’m feeling okay right now. But it sort of feels like… I don’t know how I’m going to react to things anymore. Like this morning—” He paused. Glanced at Finn.

“What?”

“I was discharged from the hospital. And I got a cab home… but I— I didn’t go home.”

“Where did you go?”

“I went to the outdoor goods store and I bought a knife,” Poe said quietly. He avoided Finn’s eyes. “It was like I was on autopilot. Like I was watching myself do it. And I would never— I would never… _do that_ to anyone. Like, right now, I can’t even imagine doing that. But I think the reason I’m so afraid of seeing them again is because I have no idea what I would do. I have no idea.” He frowned, eyes trained on the brushed nickel surface of the table. “I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff or something. I think… I would do _anything_ … not to feel the way I did that night.”

Finn nodded slowly. When Poe finally looked up, he saw that Finn’s eyes were closed. A tear escaped and slid down his cheek.

“Finn, are you okay?”

Finn opened his eyes and another tear overflowed; he forced out a laugh. “Just don’t start drinking,” he said, voice breaking halfway through. He cleared his throat. “That’s how I tried to solve it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. If the spirit takes you, leave a comment and let me know how you feel.


	5. Light Roast After Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I'm in my final semester of college and student teaching full-time and working part-time. It's been wild.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one.

Poe stared. “What?”

“The reason I, um—” Finn’s voice seemed to shrivel in his throat. He took a sip of his coffee, then blinked at it. “I’m out.”

“I’ll get us a refill,” Poe murmured, swiping Finn’s mug and standing up. “What did you have?”

“Vanilla latte,” Finn said quietly.

Poe nodded and walked away, leaving Finn to stare at his intertwined hands on the table.

When he returned, he set Finn’s mug down gently in front of him. Finn wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic. “Thank you.”

Poe sat down and paused. “Finn, what happened to you?”

Finn met his eyes. “Something similar to you.”

“You…” Poe knit his eyebrows. “When you were a kid?”

“Yeah. It was these kids I went to school with.”

“What did they do?” Poe asked in a murmur, then blinked. “Jesus Christ. We just met. You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I know.” Finn frowned. “But I want you to know what happened.”

Poe pursed his lips and waited for Finn to speak; it was silent between them for a long time.

Finally, Finn took a deep breath. “The only black kids at my school were me and this other boy in the grade above me,” he said. “But it was middle school, y’know? You don’t really talk to kids who are older than you. So I didn’t really know him. His name was, um…” He frowned again. “Bradley. Nobody ever called him Brad, it was just Bradley. And whichever teachers had had him the year before, they’d call me Bradley too. Like we were interchangeable.”

Poe listened quietly, taking a sip of coffee here and there.

“So after school this one time, all the kids were waiting for their rides, and I was sitting on the grass reading, because my dad used to pick me up, and he didn’t get off work for another half hour. I was reading _The Giver.”_ Finn thought for a moment. “And I remember that, because I stopped reading it. I stopped reading at all after that day. And I didn’t start again until about two years ago.”

“What made you start again?”

Finn smiled softly. “I was staying at my parents’ and found _The Giver_ in a box with the bookmark still inside. Like I’d always planned to pick it back up. And I finally finished it. Anyway,” he continued, blinking, “I was on the grass reading, and I heard some kid say the N word. And, like— my head just— just snapped up. Because I knew what that word was, but I’d never heard anyone say it except my dad . And he’d only said it because he was teaching me about the history of it. So I was looking around for whoever had said it— not to, like, call them out, but just to know who it was. I was never very confrontational. And I saw that it was someone from the grade above me.”

“Not Bradley,” Poe guessed.

Finn shook his head. “No. Not Bradley. It was this guy named Spencer. But he’d— he’d said it to Bradley. And his friends were there too, sort of laughing. Laughing at the joke. And Bradley was just kinda standing there, like… completely still. Like he’d been paralyzed. And I put my bookmark in my book, real slow, and stood up and walked over to them.”

Poe watched him with wide eyes. “What did you say?”

“I think I said something like, ‘That’s a bad word. Don’t say that to him.’ It never…” Finn shrugged. “It never comes out as well as you want it to. I was too scared to say anything intelligent.”

“What did they do?”

“They just laughed at me. One of them walked over to my backpack and picked up _The Giver_ and tore off the cover. And Spencer said he was surprised I could read at all. I felt like I was gonna start crying. And I looked at Bradley… I dunno. I think to see if he would say anything. But it was like he was frozen. And then I heard that word again. I don’t even know who it was directed at, or who said it. But Bradley had this look on his face like he was gonna throw up. And I just… I looked at Spencer for a second, and I punched him.” A strange look appeared on Finn’s face; Poe watched him carefully.

“What’s wrong?”

He blinked. “Nothing, but… for a long time, I looked back on that moment as the— the single decision that ruined my life. Like, if I had just kept it together, they never would have started targeting me. If I had just gone back to my book and ignored them…” He shook his head. “But it was stupid of me to think like that. I think, even if God gave me a do-over and sent me back to that moment, I’d do the exact same thing. Because I remember being so scared… and looking at Bradley, and realizing that he was scareder than I was. And sort of having this— this need to make him feel better somehow. And then looking at Spencer’s face and just fucking blacking out, I was so mad. I don’t think there was any other way it could have gone, y’know? It was meant to be.”

Poe’s coffee sat rapidly cooling on the table, forgotten. “What happened after that?”

“I got the shit kicked out of me.”

“Did Bradley do anything?”

“He ran away.”

“He left you?”

Finn shrugged. “I don’t really think of it like that.”

Poe knit his eyebrows. “How do you think of it?”

Finn thought for a moment. “He was frozen, and I wanted to make him feel better, and as soon as I punched Spencer, he wasn’t frozen anymore. So I think in some way I succeeded.”

Poe sighed.

“What?” Finn asked quietly.

“I just wish I could be more like you,” Poe said. “I wish I could talk about it the way you do.”

Finn smiled sadly. “I didn’t talk about it at all for a long time. Especially after that day, as things got worse and worse, I just shut down. My parents were just— just frantic.”

“How long before you—” Poe suddenly remembered his coffee and took a drawn-out sip from it. “Um—”

“Before I started drinking?”

Poe nodded.

“I don’t know. They just didn’t stop. They were always there. And no one really did anything. None of the other students.”

“What about the teachers?”

Finn shook his head. “My parents called my teachers, the principal, the administrators, but they never did anything until the end. Or maybe they were trying to, but I never saw any of it. So I was alone. I had kind of hoped… there was someone like me, y’know? Some kid who was stupid enough to stand up for me. But no one ever did. Every time I was walking to a different class, every day, they were there, tripping me, or pushing me, or calling me a—” Finn pursed his lips and sighed. “I started hiding in the bathroom between classes and running to class after the bell rang, so I got about eight tardies a day, so I was in detention a lot. And _then,_ when they figured out where I was hiding, I couldn’t go in the bathrooms anymore. So I started acting up in class so I’d get sent to the office, because I knew if I got sent often enough, I would get in-school suspension. And that was the dream, because I didn’t have to see them at all.”

“How did no one help you?” Poe murmured, almost more to himself than to Finn. “How could none of the teachers have cared?”

Finn looked at him gently. “What would you have done?”

“I— I would have done _something,”_ Poe floundered. “I can’t imagine seeing a student going through that and not— not doing _anything_ about it.”

“You were a better teacher than the ones I had,” Finn said. “I can tell you that.”

Poe went quiet. “Keep going,” he said softly.

Finn frowned. “It’s… really hard to describe what it feels like,” he said. “But it was like… it was like I had acid in my blood or something. I was constantly terrified, there was so much adrenaline in my system, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating… I was in so much pain. But the thing that just pushed me over the edge… okay, this is going to sound cliche,” Finn warned.

Poe nodded. “I’m ready.”

“My parents were worried about me, and I hated seeing them like that, so I started walking to class normally again to avoid getting tardies. And Spencer and his friends came up behind me as I was walking and shoved me into this row of lockers, and I dropped my books everywhere. Like a fucking movie. And there was just— _immediate_ tears in my eyes. Because it was startling, and it hurt, and everyone saw. But I held it together because I knew if they saw me cry they would keep going. So I just picked up my books alone, as everyone was walking past me, and went into the bathroom and skipped class. And I was just… so tired,” Finn sighed. “I was so tired of that— that feeling of being watched, and being scared all the time, and all the bruises that were just like— like— part of my body. I just wanted to feel okay again.”

Poe swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I… yeah.” He felt tears prick his eyes but blinked them away. “How did you even get alcohol at that age?”

“I left school and walked to the grocery store, and I just stole a few of those mini vodka bottles and walked out. And I was so confident about it— I wasn’t even scared of getting caught. It was like I was a different person.” Finn sipped his coffee absently. “So then I went home, and my parents were still at work, and I opened one of the bottles, and it tasted fucking terrible because I was a fucking toddler. But I drank the whole thing. And then I drank the other two. And I woke up to my mom shaking me— like, _shaking_ me awake. And yelling for my dad. I don’t know how long it took her to wake me up. But it was nice, because I was still drunk, and I couldn’t really feel anything. Usually waking up to something like that would scare me, but I wasn’t scared of anything. It was nice.” Finn frowned. “It was awful. But it was nice.”

Poe blew out his cheeks. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “And, um… After that, I just tried to be continuously drunk. I would walk to school because my parents worked early in the morning, I would go to the store and steal vodka or whatever they had that was accessible for me to steal, and I would finish a bottle before I got to school. I’d pour the other ones into my water bottle and drink them throughout the day. My mom realized what I was doing and switched to a later shift so she could drive me to school, I’d get out of the car and wave goodbye and walk toward the door, and then I’d just walk to the store and skip first period.”

“You never got caught stealing?”

Finn nodded. “A few times. But nothing really mattered. I just kept doing it.”

“And your teachers never noticed that you smelled like alcohol?”

“No, they did. I used a shitload of Axe body spray to cover it up, but I was visibly drunk all the time. I think there were some meetings with my parents about it.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know,” Finn admitted. “If there were, I wasn’t invited. And if my parents talked to me about them, I don’t remember it. I was a fucking ghost.” He sipped his coffee again, just for something to do.

“Did Spencer keep…?”

“Yeah. All the time. But it didn’t hurt anymore, or the pain was dulled by the alcohol,” Finn said. “And the humiliation was gone, because I was barely conscious of anything to begin with. This one time— the last time— they tripped me in the hall and I just toppled over. I was hardly walking, just shuffling along, and Spencer kicked my foot and I just kinda collapsed. And I hit my head on the tile and started bleeding, but I didn’t notice, and I tried to get up. I heard someone yell something and I felt this warmth in my hair, and I touched it and saw the blood, and kinda went— ‘Huh. Weird.’ And tried to stand up again. And at this point, Spencer was pushing me back down—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Finn shook his head. “I actually think he was trying to help me. He must’ve realized I had no idea what was happening and I think he was trying to get me to lay down. But I ended up in the hospital, and Spencer got expelled. I guess there was no denying it anymore, what he was doing to me.”

“I hope he went to fucking prison.”

Finn smiled briefly. “I have no idea what happened to him. But, um…” He cleared his throat. “My— my parents, they thought it was done, since he was gone, and his friends had just been following along. But… I kept going,” he said softly. “I couldn’t stop.”

Poe nodded slowly. “Finn, I’m… I’m so sorry those guys made you do that.”

“They didn’t. I made the choice to start drinking. That wasn’t their fault,” Finn said.

“But… they were the reason you—”

“I blamed them for a long time. I thought they made me do it. But I drank for… for half my life. After a certain point, I can’t keep blaming them for everything.”

“But aren’t you— don’t you think they deserve…?” Poe shook his head.

Finn’s gaze drifted down to the table. “I can’t hate them anymore, Poe,” he said quietly. “I can’t. It almost killed me. And I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. You hate them. You hate the people who attacked you. Maybe you even want them dead.”

Poe swallowed. He didn’t answer.

“I also know that if I… if I hadn’t had my parents, and my grandparents, and Rey, I wouldn’t have made it. And you—” he paused, eyes flitting to Poe. “There was no one at the hospital for you.”

Poe’s eyes stung. He took a sip of coffee without tasting it.

“I’m not trying to make you feel alone,” Finn said, glancing around the cafe before squeezing Poe’s hand briefly. Poe stilled. “I just know that you need a support system for something like this. And you need to talk about what’s hurting you. I can be there to listen.”

Poe stayed silent, leaving Finn’s words to hang in the air. He searched for something to say.

The buzzing of a cell phone made them both jump. Finn reached into his pocket, checking the screen.

“I gotta— hold on,” he muttered, standing up and hurrying out of earshot.

Poe watched him silently; Finn nodded a few times while he talked, then he frowned. He seemed to argue with whoever was on the other end, then quieted. Listened for a while. Then he nodded one more time and said goodbye.

When he sat back down across from Poe, it was quiet between them for a moment.

“Who was that?”

“Rey,” Finn said. “My friend.”

“The one from the bookshop?”

Finn nodded.

“Is everything okay?”

He shrugged. “She was just worried. It’s okay.” A beat. “Poe, this stuff is not something I’d normally tell somebody I just met. Actually, most people I know, they don’t know I went through all that. But I want to skip the bullshit and tell you exactly what I’ve been through and what I’ve done because I want you to know that you’re not alone. Do you understand that?”

Poe paused, then nodded.

“When somebody asks whether you’re okay, I want you to tell the truth. I want you to do the opposite of everything I did. I want you to hang out with your friends, do you have friends?”

Poe held up one finger.

“That’s good. Now you have—” Finn held up two fingers. “So I want you to confide in your friends and go to work and sleep and live your life. Are there any holidays coming up?”

“Passover.”

Finn nodded. “I missed a lot of holidays, okay? I’d either be too drunk to go or too drunk to enjoy them. Or remember them. So I want you to celebrate Passover. And I want you to eat healthy and take care of yourself.”

Poe nodded again, frowning slightly.

“And I know you said you don’t talk to your dad, but—”

“No. Skip that one.”

Finn hesitated. “And I want you to try to forgive your attackers,” he said gently. At Poe’s expression, he leaned closer. _“Try._ Keyword.”

Poe met his eyes reluctantly. “Have you forgiven yours?”

Finn looked at him for a moment, then leaned back. “I’m working on it.” He watched as Poe rolled his eyes. “I started twelve years late,” he said. “You can start now.”

Poe sighed. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

Finn pursed his lips. “You don’t sound like you mean it, but that’s okay. That’s a goal you can set.” He quieted. “It’s a waste of time to stay angry, Poe.”

“I guess you would know,” Poe muttered, then flushed. Closed his eyes. “That was stupid of me to say. I’m sorry.”

He paused. “It’s okay.”

“I just— can we— I need to talk about something else,” Poe stammered. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He picked up his coffee mug absently, not bothering to take a sip.

“We can talk about anything you want.”

“No, you choose. Just talk about something else.”

Finn shifted. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you.”

“Just change the fucking subject, Finn.” Poe huffed and set down his mug harder than he meant to; some coffee sloshed over the side.

Finn flinched, staring at the puddle on the table.

“I know you needed to do all that shit, but I’m fine,” Poe said. “I don’t need to forgive them. They don’t deserve it. And your family sounds great, and I understand that you needed their support, but my dad is a piece of shit. I’m better off without him.”

“You don’t need to do everything at once,” Finn said gently.

“I don’t _need_ to do any of it at all,” Poe argued. “I don’t need to do everything you say just because your life was fucked for fifteen years. We’re different people.”

Finn’s mouth set in a straight line. “I would’ve said the same thing. A long time ago.”

“A long time ago— what, a year and a half ago? Don’t act like you’ve solved everything, dude. Like you’re done.”

“I’m not… I’m not trying to,” Finn said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“You’re not,” Poe said, voice cracking. He blinked a few times. “I kind of feel worse than I did before, actually. Like I’ll never— like I’ll—” 

Finn’s mouth hung slightly open. “Poe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

Poe shook his head, wiping his eyes roughly with his sleeve. “It happened three days ago, Finn.”

“I know,” Finn nodded.

Poe went silent for a while, a slight frown on his face. Occasionally, a tear would slide down his cheek. “I need to go.”

Finn looked at him. “I can give you a ride.”

He stood up numbly. “It’s only a few blocks.”

Finn’s gaze fell. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and took in a breath, holding it for a second. “I know you’re trying to help me. I appreciate it.”

Finn nodded slowly.

He watched Finn with a blank face. “I hope we can be friends."

“Yeah,” Finn said, meeting his eyes again. “I hope so too.”

Poe hesitated, then made his way for the exit.

A barista’s voice chirped from behind the counter as Poe pushed through the door. “Have a good night!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I live for comments.


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